7. Dead Woman Walking
Chapter seven
Dead Woman Walking
S olveig danced through memories tinged with the soft, glowing rays of past happiness. A solitary moment where everything was perfect. In a dress of shimmering ice-blue to match a handsome lord’s eyes. They had danced the night away. Troubles forgotten. They sipped sparkling wine, laughed with their friend Adira Etana and, for once, Solveig and Killian had been civil to each other. It was a perfect glittering dream. But dreams end, and not all end happily.
Solveig woke from her involuntary slumber lying on her side in the dirt. Her shoulder screamed in silent agony where the bolt had pierced her. Blood covered her hands from where she tried to staunch the flow around the dagger.
“You’ve been out all night,” a grim voice sounded behind her.
Solveig twisted, eyes flashing as they narrowed. “You were supposed to keep running.” She struggled through gritted teeth as she forced herself to sit. Agony sliced through her; vision blurring as the meagre contents of her stomach roiled, threatening a return journey.
“The immediate danger was gone; you saw to that,” Malik said with a morbid smile. Her face was ashen. The skin beneath her eyes bruised, a sheen of sickly sweat covered her.
“You don’t know the way, do you, Malik?” she whispered, and the prince grimaced.
“I spent four years in the dark pit of that mine, Solveig. Do you have any idea what that does to a person? There are countless memories that I can no longer differentiate between which are real and which were dreams. There is more than physical torture going on in that place. I pray you weren’t aware of the full extent.” He walked toward her, feet crushing leaves into the dirt. “The girl I knew back then would be horrified by you now.”
Solveig’s eyes burned beneath the sickness. Her whole body tensed. “Then it’s a good thing I buried her alongside her lover four years ago.” She made to stand, using the rock he had propped her against to stabilise herself through the roaring pain in her stomach. Biting back a hiss as she twisted, causing the blade to shift. It bit into her already tender flesh as more blood oozed from the wound. She wiped a shaking finger beneath it to catch a few droplets, gaze hard at the confirmation of what her senses screamed at her. It was darker than normal; the wound was infected.
“Sit down Solveig, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Malik warned, placing a hand on her uninjured shoulder.
“It’s either endure the pain or die here,” she snapped, pulling away from his grasp. “You don’t know what I can handle, Malik, and besides, you need me to get home.”
Solveig spun on the spot trying to gather her bearings but there were no landmarks in sight, “how far from where I fell did you take us?”
“A mile or two northwest.”
Solveig shook her head. “You’re a fool. Do you think they’re not out there right now searching for us? We must keep moving.”
“You’re in no condition to go anywhere. You need to heal.”
“There’s no time for that.” She sighed. “Rip off your sleeve.”
“What?”
“I need to pack around the wound, or I’ll bleed out before sundown.”
Malik did as she asked, all whilst eyeing the cuffs at her wrists. Her gaze followed his as she covered them with her hands. “My magic has always been weak, Malik. You know that.”
“You’re a Hydromancer, healer’s magic. Why won’t you use it?”
“Drop it,” she warned, twisting the fabric around the blade as tight as possible. Bile rose in her throat as she bit back the pain.
“There’s a river close by. You can use that to sustain your power. I’ve seen other manipulators do it.”
“Other manipulators didn’t poison their gift,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “A walking instrument of torture doesn’t need healing abilities.”
“What happened in the last four years?” Malik asked, approaching her again with slow, steady steps, palms outward.
“What use would it be? You cannot change the past any more than I can. Do something useful and climb one of these trees and find any landmarks that could give an indicator of our position.”
He followed her orders without complaint. Solveig was still royalty in these parts, and her word was as good as law. She tried to forage for nuts and berries, but the wound in her stomach smarted with every bend to pluck the supplies from their branches.
If they were lucky, they were a full day’s hike from the Elysian Bridge. A dangerous amount of time to spend walking through the woods, caked in mud, with a trail of highly trained guards behind you. All with a festering wound. She was lucky she could even walk.
The sound of rustling leaves and scraping bark signalled Malik’s descent. Solveig leaned against another nearby tree, a wave of weakness washing over her.
“What did you see?” She swallowed, trying to combat the dryness in her throat, a warning sign of the worsening infection.
“The mountains are to the northeast. Luxenal is behind us. I couldn’t see much else. It was too dark still.”
“If the mountains are to the northeast, then we’re still on the right track. We keep heading northwest for another day or so, and we should be close.”
“Can you even take another step?”
“If I don’t; I’ll die.”
“How bad is it?” She averted her gaze.
“Solveig?” he pressed.
“There’s an infection in my blood. I’m a dead woman walking at this point either way. North is my only chance.”
“I could carry you.”
“You lay one finger on me intending to carry Malik Etana, and I’ll give you a wound to match.”
“Fine, but if you black out on me again. I won’t be held responsible for anything I have to do to keep you alive.”
As the day wore on, the thick trees that bordered the mountains mercifully shaded them from the still lingering heat of the autumnal sun. Exhaustion leeched their bones, hunger ravaged their stomachs, and thirst tore at their throats. By the time the sun fell in the sky once more, turning the clouds a warm burnished orange that faded to pink, then purple as nighttime once again drew close. Solveig had no choice but to lean on the prince for support as the infection rapidly spread and stole more of her strength. It was a miracle she was on her feet at all.
When at last she glimpsed flickering blue lights through the trees; Solveig thought she had succumbed to hallucinations. It wasn’t until they drew closer that she realised it was real. They’d made it. The flickering blue lights were eternal flame beacons that lit the passage across the Elysian Bridge.
Malik shouldered most of Solveig’s weight as they passed through the last of the trees to the small clearing at the edge of the bridge. Bringing the prince mere steps away from home soil for the first time in four years.